


Access All Areas

by Britpacker



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Episode Related, F/M, Office Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2013-11-27
Packaged: 2018-01-02 19:22:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1060629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Britpacker/pseuds/Britpacker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam has it.  When Malcolm's having a particularly bad day, it's in her interest to use it.  Her motives are completely unselfish - honest!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Access All Areas

**Author's Note:**

> Set during the fifth episode, shortly after Malcolm's little altercation with Julius at the pantry door. I love that scene!

She heard him on the phone as she approached, the note of restrained anger in his voice telling her more than any expletive-spattered rant. “He is not getting anywhere near my fucking pantry. That door is staying as open as a fat whore’s bone hole!”

Julius Nicholson, Sam gathered. Currently stationed at Number One on the very extensive Malcolm Tucker hit list. Not that anybody ever maintained that place for long.

People had been grinning behind their hands since the two unelected advisors closest to the Prime Minister had been heard quarrelling (again) that morning. They knew better than to involve her in their betting schemes but sharp ears were one of her most valuable assets and Sam knew they had her boss odds-on favourite to come out on top in more than mere swearing.

Julius, so said the sages, was expensively educated beyond his intelligence. Malcolm – well, he hadn’t clawed his way from Glasgow’s backstreets without learning the more important lessons of life, like how to smack down a pompous prick with ideas above his fucking station.

Until he could deal with the bald nuisance, however, each new day was bringing a shit shower of paperwork marked _Advanced Implementation Unit_ to fall like wedding day confetti around his ears. Today – today, it seemed to Sam that their minor disagreement about _accommodation_ had been the final straw.

One hand dipped into her blazer’s inside pocket, fingers curling protectively around a familiar cool shape. She glanced behind her, down the narrow corridor that separated his office from the wide lobby with its open plan desk arrangement. Nobody around.

Gently she withdrew the object, pressing it safely into her palm. Tapped on his door and slipped around, neatly stopping his yell midway through. “What the fu – oh, hi Sam.”

“Just wondered if you’re going to bother with lunch today, or if I should just send in a random junior minister for you to gnaw on.” Deliberately casual she leaned against the door, sliding both hands behind her back to conceal her fumblings with key and hole. If she was very lucky his gust of startled laughter might even drown the sound of her success.

“I’m alright pet, but thanks for asking.” No, he didn’t suspect a thing and as she pushed herself off the wall and sashayed toward him, hips swinging and long brown hair being carelessly flipped back off her shoulders, Sam felt her heart rate stutter. 

“I’m glad to hear that, darling,” she crooned, her grin widening at the utter shock that creased his craggy features. “Can’t have old Baldie Bollocks coming in here and upsetting my lover, can we?”

“What the fuck – have you been at Susan’s brandy again?” He tried to stand but she was too fast for him, dodging around the desk and planting herself firmly into his lap, her arms winding around his neck and her teeth attaching themselves to his ear. She exhaled a warm, wet breath over the sensitive shell, squirming to get closer, grey skirt beginning to ride up against her thighs. 

“You’re all wound up, Malc. You haven’t stopped all day.” Nothing new in that, he might have said had she given him the chance. Sam wriggled until she sat astride him, taking her sweet time about it while the tension began to leech out of him and one very particular portion of his anatomy stirred from its workaday slumber. Framing his face in her hands she held him still, unprotesting, while she laid on a long, slow smooch. 

When his lips parted, his tongue beginning to delicately dance with hers she felt the world tilt a little on its axis. “God, Malcolm!” she sighed, resting her forehead against his, utterly content for a perfect moment. “Do you have to _shout_ so much?”

“Turns you on, does it?” Warm tendrils were swirling from his groin, small sizzles of pleasure working their way out through his whole body as she shifted against him, and while he knew he should be stopping the brazen wee hussy here and now Malcolm just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Keeping her gaze riveted on his, Sam stood, slid out of her knickers and very deliberately dropped them onto his desk.

“ _That’s_ better,” she sighed, hitching her straight skirt up to her waist. Malcolm’s tongue flicked out, dabbing his parched lips. “Allow me.”

He didn’t object when she snuggled back onto his knees, easing his belt free of its buckle and making an erotic performance of lowering his fly. The friction of her on his lap, the heat emanating from her exposed flesh, was making him dizzy. If the Prime Minister himself had come barging through from the pantry between their offices – _thank God for P.M.Q’s_ , the thought fizzled through his brain like an electric shock – Malcolm wouldn’t have given a flying fuck.

Talented fingers worked his cock free, stroking him to full hardness while her mouth ravaged his, swallowing down his gratified sighs. Malcolm hunkered low down in his seat, his head pillowed on the high padded backrest. Sinking into the sensations she unleashed with her every touch and twitch he worked a hand between them, slipping one long, graceful finger between her warm folds. Sam quivered convulsively.

Like a heat-seeking missile that fingertip found her clitoris and worked it, shooting heat up into her belly. Expertly he worked her damp flesh, easing her opening into slippery softness. Suddenly it wasn’t his sounds that had to be muffled, but hers.

“Up!” The command vibrated through her mouth and she strained to obey it, knees clamped around his thighs for purchase while she lifted just long enough for him to slip home on a throaty purr of relief. 

He didn’t have to tell her when to go down. The pressure of him inside her, the full stretch of her inner walls, made their own immediate demands. Sam wound an arm around his neck, seized a quick breath before locking her mouth back onto his and began to ride, her languid tempo rising with each jerk of the hips that pushed him deeper, harder into her core. Their surroundings dissolved. It wasn’t discretion that kept her lips plastered onto his anymore; it was the raw, overwhelming need for the taste of him on her tongue.

Pleasure built, spreading through her stomach until it engulfed her. Beneath her Malcolm stiffened and shuddered to completion, his moan reverberating against the roof of her mouth.

Sam tightened, the flood of his release carrying her over the edge into her own. Tears stung the backs of her eyes as she screwed them tight shut, riding the tidal wave of climax until it softened into blissful oblivion and left her slumped against him, conscious of nothing but the thump of her own heartbeat and the ragged huffs of his breath against her throat.

“Jesus, lass!” He stirred first, lifting his heavy head to give her the dazed, slack-jawed smile that always melted her heart. “What was that about, eh?”

“Improving your day. And mine.” Reality was beginning to seep into her smug trance, encouraged by his fidgeting under her, and reluctantly Sam pushed herself off, grateful for the support of his desk while her wobbly legs regained their strength. “Worked for me!”

His bark of laughter helped clear the cobwebs from her head and lazily she fumbled behind with one hand, retrieving her underwear while Malcolm made himself presentable. “And me, but don’t go risking it too often, all right? The Boss wanders in and finds you goin’ down on me he might get jealous, OK?”

“Of you or me?” Her head felt light. The urge to skip on her way to unlock the door was irresistible, even if it did make him snort and roll his eyes. The enormity of what she’d just done was almost – but only almost – as thrilling as the act itself. Shagging in the office. 

Shagging the great Malcolm Tucker speechless behind his own overloaded desk. She’d started dreaming of it on her third – or, if she was being totally honest, possibly her second – day here. 

It had, she concluded smugly, been worth the wait. Deftly pocketing her key she opened the door just wide enough to slide around lest any straggler peer past and see him still slumped there, fully dressed but still a little soft and sleepy in his post-coital daze. “Throw you a bit of the next junior minister that goes past to chew on?” she volunteered.

He let her get into the corridor before responding, the dry edge to his rich brogue subtly emphasising the wicked grin behind the words. “You’re too good to me, girl.”

Sam was still hugging herself, and getting odd looks from the other admins in the area, five minutes later.


End file.
